


Winter Chill

by Hatterized



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: ...except it's a sleeping bag, Bonding, Canon Divegence, Flirting, Huddling For Warmth, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-25 02:59:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16653004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatterized/pseuds/Hatterized
Summary: Rick takes an unexpected swim during a winter scavenging trip with Negan.





	Winter Chill

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an ask I got on tumblr because I literally can't resist shit like this. Bonus: it's just gotten cold here and the mood is perfect.

 

“Face it, Rick- you don’t know how to cope with a _real_ winter. I bet y’all were down there bundled up when it was fifty degrees. Have you ever fucking _seen_ snow?”

“Yes, Negan, I’ve seen snow before,” Rick gripes, because he _has_. Never mind that they rarely got more than a couple inches of powdery white that wouldn’t stick together, or that the snow people he made with Carl and Lori were filled with autumn’s leftover leaves and smudged orange with Georgia clay.

“Well, you’ve clearly never driven in it. Sweet baby Jesus on a fucking biscuit, Grimes, we’re fifty yards from the fucking gate. Scoot over, sweetheart. I’ll show you how us Yankees handle a real winter.”

Rick's about to snap that Virginia was a part of the confederacy, but the point seems moot because Negan's already waiting outside the driver's side door. The only reason he swaps places is because the five seconds he’d skidded on a patch of black ice had made his stomach flip over and jump into his throat.

_Okay,_  so he never learned how to properly drive in the snow. He never needed to- everything in Georgia simply shut down at the first sign of a frost. People raced to the store to stock up on milk and bread and then they all stayed home and drank hot chocolate and made their muddy snowmen. Negan can drive if he wants. Rick had been meaning to catch up on some sleep, anyway.

* * *

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. We’re about to hit the fucking jackpot.”

Rick blinks himself back into consciousness to see Negan grinning at him from across the center console, Lucille already gripped in his gloved hands. Equipped with only his hatchet, Rick feels naked. His colt python had been a constant companion to him- minus the couple months of peace at the prison- since the world fell apart. Knowing it’s somewhere in the Sanctuary instead of where it belongs on his hip makes him twitchy.

The “fucking jackpot” turns out to be a little warehouse tucked in between a tractor supply store and what was once a Blockbuster, gone even before the world ended. The lettering has long since been pried off the shopfront and the sign, but Rick would recognize that blue-and-yellow ticket stub anywhere.

It’s such a silly thing, but he wonders if there’s any candy or microwave popcorn packets left in there. Back in the day, he, Lori, and Carl had made near-weekly trips to the Blockbuster down the road from their house. Carl had always loved those little chocolate-covered cookie dough bites.

As soon has he hops out of the truck, Rick sees why this place hasn’t been looted yet- it’s on a little side street way off the main road, most of the other businesses around it having gone out of business long before the customers rose from the dead. Snow is piled up in front of the doors and covers the road like a second pavement, and there’s a frozen retention pond out front. There’s a couple walkers stumbling around, but nothing they can’t handle between the two of them, especially with how slowly they move in the winter.

“Easy peasy lemon-squeezy, right Rick? C’mon, it’s time for some batting practice.” Negan strides toward the shambling, icy-jointed walkers with a skip in his step, whistling a slightly off-key tune that Rick picks up on a second later- _Another One Bites The Dust_. How fitting.

“These things are fucking walker popsicles in the winter!” Negan slams the barbed end of Lucille into the skull of one, and it collapses easily with a crunch of snow and bone. Rick winces and looks away- it’s still hard to watch Lucille in action.

The walkers may be slower in the icy weather, but they’re also sturdier. The summer months see them so soft and rotten that Rick’s hatchet sinks into them with ease, but as soon as he goes for the first one, he knows he’s at a disadvantage. Immediately, his hatchet lodges in the thing’s skull, and when he tries to wrench it back like he usually does, it sticks and his boots slip on the icy pavement.

“Shit-!” Rick has to kick the thing full in the chest to free his axe, the force of it pulling loose sending him stumbling back in the snow. He manages to get his balance just in time to swing around and take out one creeping up on him from the side…and again, his axe sticks. He fumbles on his belt with numb fingers, trying to unsheathe his knife while holding the walker at bay. He’s not sure what the hell Negan’s doing- probably watching and laughing from the sidelines with that goddamned bat by his side- and it’s just then, when he finally sinks the knife into the walker’s temple and it goes limp, that he hears the crack from beneath him.

The panic hits him just like it did when the truck slid on the road, and it’s a second too late that he realizes that the retention pond was actually much larger than they’d thought, the bulk of it hidden beneath layers of snow like camouflage. 

The ice cracks beneath his feet, giving way completely when the walker hits the ground, and before Rick can think, he’s plunging into the frigid water beneath him.

His whole body goes into shock as he submerges, the intensity of cold making every cell in his body scream to _get the hell out_. He hears the muted, muffled sound of his own shocked shout rippling through the icy water, and it hurts like hell to move but he kicks until he doesn’t feel like he’s sinking anymore. It’s pitch black under the surface, and the bottom’s probably just beneath his feet but he’s not about to test that theory. The only light comes in little patches from above, and he fights his screaming muscles in order to force himself up, up- only to hit solid ice.

And _that’s_ when the fear really sets in.

He can’t feel his hands anymore, so he just keeps slamming them into the ice, hoping it will break. His lungs are burning from lack of oxygen, his whole body feels like it’s being pierced with icy needles, and he feels like his eyes are about to freeze solid in his skull. He keeps feeling along the ice, trying to find the hole he fell through, the world growing dim and dark at the edges and all he can think is, _Negan’s going to let me die in here_.

He doesn’t feel his fingers meeting wintery air, but he does feel the near-painful burn of warmth when his wrist is grabbed and he’s dragged to the surface. The shock of cold air hits him like the water did, and for a moment he’d terrified that he’s going to die even though Negan pulled him out.

“Rick! Fucking stay with me Rick, alright?” There’s a sharp sting across his left cheek and he feels himself being hauled up to his feet, and he’s trying to make himself walk, he really is, but it feels like his muscles are frozen. He’s never been this cold in his life. He thinks he’s trying to grip Negan’s shoulder to stay upright, but he can’t feel his fingers.

He’s shaking so hard that his teeth chatter, but it’s not helping to get him any warmer. When Negan lets go of him to start trying to smash through the padlock on the warehouse’s front door, Rick very nearly falls into the snow.

“Just- just give me a second, Rick, just a fucking second and I’ll get you in here.” Negan’s grunting with the force he’s putting behind the blows to the lock, slamming into it with Rick’s hatchet once, twice more before hitting it just right and making the metal crack and fall away.

_Please don’t let there be any walkers in here_ , Rick thinks desperately.

It’s pitch-black in the warehouse, the snow on the front windows blocking out most of the light. It’s also, unfortunately for Rick, about as cold as it was outside. Their only bit of luck is that Negan brought a flashlight. It’s a tiny little thing that he pulls out of his jacket pocket, but it lights up the space with a soft white glow.

The front that they’ve stumbled into is an office section- two little side rooms with desks and filing cabinets. So far, there’s nothing else in here with them.

Negan helps Rick into one of the offices- the emptier of the two- and closes the door behind them. He starts unzipping Rick’s jacket and Rick jerks away, eyes going wide as saucers.

“The _hell_ are you-”

“You’ve got to get out of those wet clothes, Rick. C’mon, get ‘em off. You’re gonna get fucking hypothermia,” he shoves Rick’s jacket to the floor in a wet heap and starts unbuttoning his shirt, “and I don’t want to have to explain why the fuck I’m bringing you home as a Rick-shaped popsicle.”

“I can handle my own goddamn-” Rick starts, except he apparently can’t, because his fingers as shaking and numb and he can’t get them to work the buttons on his shirt. Negan gives him an exasperated look straight out of Carl’s teenage repertoire of sass.

“No, you really fucking can’t. Now nut the fuck up and let me take your clothes off.”

If Rick was capable of it, he’s sure he would be blushing. Negan gets his shirt off and his nipples are so hard they could cut glass, every muscle in his abdomen pulled taught in an attempt to retain some warmth. He manages to kick off his boots on his own, and then Negan’s unzipping him and to Rick’s embarrassment, his boxers slide down along with his sodden jeans and he has to physically fight the urge to cover himself with his hands, though god knows Negan’s probably not seeing a lot with how cold he is. His balls have jumped up into his body and plan to stay there until spring.

Rick turns away as soon as he steps out of the last of his clothes, only to immediately regret it because his brain chooses now to recall all of the times Negan’s made comments about how his ass is _cute as a Georgia peach_.

Rick sinks to the floor and draws his knees into his chest and hugs them closer, more to try to get himself warm than anything, but the cover is a nice bonus. He breathes out on his hands, wiggling his fingers and trying to force the blood to flow back into them. He only looks up when he hears a zipper. Negan sheds his leather jacket and drapes it around Rick’s shaking shoulders, wraps his hands in the red scarf he pulled from around his neck. Suddenly Rick’s surrounded by Negan’s scent, and he can’t even work up a reply before Negan’s ducking out of the room, saying, “I’ll go find something to dry you off with. Keep your ass right there.”

As if Rick’s really in any state to move.

He hates it, but Negan’s jacket and scarf are warm, and he can’t help but try to leech all the heat out of them that he can. It’s not nearly enough, but it’s something, and it keeps him occupied for the next fifteen minutes while he waits for Negan to get back. For once, Rick hopes that the other man didn’t get waylaid by walkers.

Negan bounds back into the room with his arms full of blankets. “Looks like somebody was staying here for a while. There’s a sleeping bag and shit in the other office, but it looks like it hasn’t been touched in months.” Negan crouches down beside Rick, and Rick goes to take the blanket from him, but then Negan’s right up beside him and his hands are moving over Rick’s skin, shoulders to thighs to calves, trying to rub some warmth back into him. He’s not rough about it, either- his touch is careful and determined, and after a few minutes, Rick feels dethawed enough to unclench his hands.

Negan lifts the blanket up to Rick’s face, patting his cheeks dry, rubbing it through the thickening beard covering his jaw, up to his hair. The way he’s looking at Rick is…unnervingly concerned.

“I, uh. I think I can take it from here,” Rick pipes up, his hand covering Negan’s. The older man frowns and cups Rick’s hand between his own, freezing fingers between warm ones.

“You feel fucking dead, Rick,” he murmurs, and for a moment, Rick almost thinks Negan may care whether he pulled Rick out of that pond alive or not. It seems impossible, but there’s something gentle and almost reverent in the way Negan clasps Rick’s hands, trying to warm them.

And then, of course, Negan opens his mouth again and breaks the spell.

“You sure you don’t need my help drying off? I don’t mind getting my hands up in there- in fact, I can think of more than a few way to get you all hot and-”

“Yeah, I’ve got it.” Rick snatches the blanket away and gives Negan a pointed look, waiting for him to turn away before he stretches out and dries himself off the rest of the way. His hair is still damp, but there’s nothing to do about that but wait. He grabs the other blanket, tucking it around him best he can.

“You decent, princess?”

Rick barely resists the urge to snap when he hisses out a “yes” through his teeth. _Asshole_.

Surprisingly, Negan’s face softens when he turns to see Rick shivering and bundled in a blanket, feet bare on the cold tile floor.

“There’s a sleeping bag in the other office. Clearing this place out can wait 'til tomorrow, we just need to focus on getting you warmed back up.”

The kindness leaves Rick dazed- that the only explanation as to why he quietly follows Negan into the other office, burrows down into the thick, flannel-lined sleeping bag, and lets Negan leave him there while he goes to grab their bags out of the car.

Less than five minutes later, Rick hears muffled swearing coming from outside. Negan storms in moments later, red-faced and clutching Rick’s bag in his fist.

“The fucking goddamned piece-of-shit truck’s dead. I tried to start the fuckin’ thing thinking that I could turn the heat on for you- I didn’t realize how low the gas was. It’s too fucking cold and the battery's dead and now we’re fucking stuck here overnight.”

Rick kisses his dreams of a hot shower goodbye.

Negan sighs and tosses Rick’s bag into a corner of the office, glances back out at the front door, and then starts dragging the desk out, shoving it up against the entrance.

“It’s sealed up tight out back. Whoever was staying here must had had the key and locked it up when they left.” Negan sighs and slides down the wall to sit. “Poor fuck must have thought they were comin’ back.” Negan flicks the flashlight over at Rick’s bag. “You got matches or anything in there? I saw a couple candles on the front desk.”

“Yeah. Front pocket.”

Negan pulls out a matchbook and leaves Rick in the dark for a moment to fetch the candles. Moments later, the room is filled with warm, flickering light that Rick wishes was about ten times bigger so he could huddle around it and get warm. Even inside the blanket and the sleeping bag, the cold of the floor is seeping through, and he can’t seem to get warm. He rubs his hands together, forces his fingers to bend, cracks his toes, but the cold is still bone-deep.

“Rick. You’re not gonna like it, but fucking hear me out before you flip your shit, alright?”

“No,” Rick says, because he already knows.

“You need body heat.”

“I don’t.”

“You’re never gonna warm up like that. You were under for a good couple minutes. Scared the living shit out of me. We’re probably gonna have to walk to that gas station we passed a few miles back, and we can’t do that if you’re fucking sick.”

Rick thinks about how they don’t have a doctor in Alexandria right now, how most of their meds have gone to the Saviors, and how if he’s down for even a couple days, it could mean the difference between having their full tribute or coming up short.

“Fine,” he mutters, and Negan’s already unzipping. Rick thinks the whole ordeal is just going to be idiotic and uncomfortable, but as soon as Negan slides into the sleeping bag beside him and presses up against Rick from behind, his face goes hot.

“Jesus, you’re cold as balls. No wonder your dick was tryin’ to hide.”

Negan’s dick is _not_ trying to hide, and is in fact pressed up against Rick’s bare ass. Even flaccid, the feeling is so _unbelievably_ inappropriate for what they are to each other. “You- you didn’t want to leave your fucking boxers on?” he hisses, trying to squirm away. “The hell’s wrong with you?”

“Skin-on-skin’s the fastest way to get warm, Rick. Calm your fucking tits.”

Rick would argue, but he’s still shivering so violently that it’s making his head hurt. Negan’s somehow hot as a furnace behind him, and as much as it pains Rick to admit it, he’d rather the other man stay right where he is, so he stops moving and lays there, letting Negan's warmth seep into his skin. The air around them is cinnamon-scented from the candles, and it makes him crave a mug of hot apple cider. 

“Give me your hands.” Negan slides an arm around Rick’s waist and tugs his wrists up until he can wrap clasp Rick’s hands again, rubbing them together for friction. Even his breath is hot, warming Rick where it ghosts over his neck and shoulder. “Can’t have you losin’ any fingers.”

Everything about what they’re doing is far, far too intimate. Irritably, Rick squirms and presses his feet up against Negan’s calves, chuckling when he feels the man behind him jerk and hiss. “Jesus, give a guy a little warning.”

“I didn’t have any warning that your dick was gonna be out for this,” Rick retorts in a fit of boldness. Maybe he’s getting delirious.

“You showed me yours. Figured fair’s fair. Though if I’m bein’ honest-”

“Please just shut the hell up.”

“-There wasn’t much to see.”

“I fell in a fucking frozen pond. I don’t know what you expected,” Rick grumbles, and he idly wonders if Negan’s doing this on purpose to make him blush, get him warm, but he decides against it. _He’s just being an asshole._

“I ever tell you it’s sexy as hell when you swear like that?”

“I ever tell you it’s sexy as hell when you shut up?” The retort leaves Rick’s lips before he can think better of it. Clearly, he’s lost his damn mind.

Negan whistles long and low behind him. “Ooh, baby. I knew you liked me, too.” Negan’s palm slides down to Rick’s stomach, and the muscles there jump. “Tell me, Rick…you wanna show me what Little Ricky looks like when he’s not hiding? Promise I won’t kiss and tell.”

Rick nearly screams. _How the hell did I get here?_ “You’re kiddin’.” He’d better be. Rick’s one more lewd joke away from whirling around and clocking him. He fully expects Negan to laugh and brush it all off as his usual teasing to get under Rick’s skin, but that doesn’t happen. Instead, Negan’s warm palm is gliding from Rick’s belly up to his hip and then down his thigh, and Rick’s face heats to burning. There’s a trail of heat in the wake of Negan’s touch, his palm big and warm, and that’s the only reason Rick arches a little into the touch.

“I’m not.” Negan’s mouth is right at Rick’s ear, hot breath warming the cold lobe. Rick halfway expects to feel lips there, nipping at his icy skin. “No better time than now. We’re not gettin’ out of here ‘til the sun comes up, you need to get all warm and toasty…and I can fucking provide.”

Rick can feel Negan’s cock beginning to get hard where it’s pressed against his ass, and the sane part of himself wants to scream, kick, jerk away and insist that Negan sleep somewhere else for the night.

He feels warm lips and short stubble press to the back of his shoulder in a chaste kiss that makes Rick’s arms break out into goosebumps. “I know you want to say yes,” Negan murmurs, his lips travelling the slope of Rick’s shoulder up to the tender flesh of his neck.

_Move. Tell him to stop. Pull away._

Rick doesn’t do any of that. Negan’s hand is back on his stomach, rubbing slow, lazy circles and his lips are gentle and scorching against his neck, tongue coming out to play, and he hates himself, he really, _really_ does, but he wants more.

“Let me touch you.”

_You already are_ , Rick wants to say, but he can’t find his words through the fog that he’s lost in. Negan’s teeth find his earlobe and nip, and Rick can’t hide the full-body shudder that rolls through him. Negan’s practically purring, kissing the sensitive skin right behind Rick’s ear. He’s rock-hard, cock pressed up against Rick’s bare ass, but he hasn’t moved, hasn’t rocked himself against Rick.

_He’s waiting_ , Rick realizes. _Waiting for me to say no._

“I’ve seen how you look at me. Like you wanna pin me to the fucking wall and lay into me until the only thing I know is your name.” Lips and tongue move against the nape of Rick’s neck, and he can’t taste good after being in that water, but Negan can’t seem to get enough of him. More than that, Rick’s shaken to know that Negan’s seen down to the messy, fucked-up core of him so easily. “I know, because that’s how I look at you. And we _both_ know that you’ve seen that.”

Rick’s seen it. He knows that look, has been secretly drawing it out when he’s alone in his bed, touching himself in the dark like a teenager jerking off to pilfered Playboys.

“It’s just you and me, Rick.” Negan’s hand splays out in the middle of his chest, keeping their bodies tightly together, warmth radiating out from his palm. “Do you want it or not?”

Rick’s completely lost his mind, which is the only explanation for why he rocks subtly back against the man holding him close. He smirks when he hears the sharp, shocked intake of breath in his ear. _He thought I was going to say no._

“Sexy bitch,” Negan hisses, and then his hand moves to cup one of Rick’s pecs, thumb rubbing firms circles over his stiff nipple. “Not gonna lie to you, Rick. I felt fucking bad about it, but god _damn_ , watching you take your shirt off earlier was so hot I nearly creamed my fuckin’ jeans.” Rick shudders as his nipples are teased, pinched, and rubbed until they’re hard from much more than the cold.

“Fucking asshole,” Rick manages, the sound only a little breathless. Negan laughs against his shoulder.

“That’s me, darlin’. Don’t fucking pretend you’d have it any other way. You fucking love having someone who will come sink their teeth right into you. Someone who makes you feel _alive_.” Rick’s ass is given a rough squeeze, and in response Rick squirms back, teasing himself up against Negan’s stiff length. The other man lets out a small sound that’s nearly a whine, and Rick grins.

“Don’t come yet, we just started,” Rick taunts. He reaches behind him to rake blunt nails down Negan’s thigh just to feel the taller man throb against him. “I’m gonna be real disappointed if you can’t even last a minute after all your talkin'.”

“Oh, _Rick_ ,” Negan rumbles, sliding one long finger down the cleft of Rick’s ass to rub over the tight opening there, “the last thing you’re gonna be tonight is disappointed.” His teeth flash against Rick’s neck, nipping and sucking while he touches gently.

Between Rick’s thighs, his cock throbs. Negan’s hand snakes around his hip to take him in his fist, and Rick has to bite down on his lip to keep from wailing. Negan’s hand is tight and warm and _perfect_ around his aching length, giving him long, slow strokes from root to tip.

“ _Shit_ , Rick. I take it back- feels like there’d be plenty to look at now.” He gives Rick another firm stroke and Rick fucks up into his fist, chasing the pleasure. Rick loses himself for a minute, eyes closed and mind focused on the bliss of Negan’s hand on his cock. The only thing that jerks him out of it is the feeling of Negan’s dick sliding up between his ass cheeks. He stiffens, and Negan shushes him quietly, thumb working just below the head of his dripping length.

“Shh, now. Don’t flip out on me, baby. I’m not gonna try to get inside you tonight.” Rick relaxes a little, tension melting away as he rocks himself back against Negan again, shuddering at the intimate slide of the other man’s dick. Negan groans against his neck, and they begin to build a rhythm together, hips rolling and clashing like waves, bitten-off noises of pleasure spilling forth and filling the candlelit room.

Negan’s leaking a lot- Rick can feel the slick, wet slide of precome against his skin. On the next press back, Negan’s cock slides lower, slipping between his thighs and grazing the underside of Rick’s heavy balls. The sound that leaves Negan is nearly as satisfying as the man’s hand on him.

“Oh, _fuck_ , Rick.” Negan repeats the motion, cock sliding between Rick’s thighs. It feels unbelievably filthy, the slickness and the way Rick can feel the head of Negan’s cock peeking out from between his own legs, teasing the sensitive skin there and rubbing up against his sac. Negan’s hand speeds up on his cock, rapidly fisting the head, and on some of the inward slides he can feel Negan’s cock rubbing over his fluttering opening. “Never thought I’d get to fuck your thick fucking thighs, baby.” Rick clenches his leg muscles and Negan cries out breathlessly behind him. “Feels so fucking good, Rick, _fuck_.”

Rick fucks into Negan’s fist, unable to hold back the moans and whimpers as his dick is stroked just how he likes it, tight and firm and relentless, his own wetness making it that much smoother, pushing him close to the edge that much quicker. He wants to say something, wants to taunt Negan for losing it over something like this, wants to curse and talk dirty until Negan’s a mess behind him, but the only noise he can make is the needy moan that keeps getting punched out of him with every thrust. His inner thighs are going to be chafed tomorrow where Negan’s fucking them, but he can’t find it in himself to care in the slightest, especially not when he feels Negan’s cock twitch and the other man’s thrusts speed up. Negan’s too far gone for full sentences, just grunting urgent moans of Rick’s name, and then the sound hitches halfway through and Rick feels wet warmth spilling between his thighs and over his ass.

“Rick, Rick, fuck, _Rick_ -!” Negan’s thumb is rubbing over the wet, sensitive tip of Rick’s cock as he continues to jerk him off, and it only takes a couple more pumps for Rick to cry out hoarsely and come all over Negan’s fist. Negan’s a solid wall of heat behind him, and Rick arches, pressing back against him, craving the closeness as he comes undone.

They’re both breathing heavily as they come down, trembling and sweating and sticky with come. Rick can feel the wetness of Negan’s release dripping intimately between his legs, but he can’t move to grab something to clean himself up with. Every muscle in his body feels lax and sated, and, even more significant- he’s _warm_.

“Ho-ly shit. I think I just had a fuckin’ out of body experience.” Negan’s slumped behind Rick, forehead resting against the nape of his neck, hot breath fogging over the top of Rick’s spine. “I’m not gonna say I’m glad you fell in the pond, because that shit nearly had me pissin’ my pants, but god _damn_ , Rick. That was somethin’ else, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Rick murmurs, eyelashes fluttering. “It was.”

He’s beginning to drift when there’s a rush of cold air that forces a displeased noise out of him, but Negan’s back a second later, and something soft is moving between his thighs and over his ass. “Sorry. Much as I love you bein’ covered in my spunk, I figure you’d bitch me out over it in the morning.” Rick cracks an eye in time to see Negan tossing his white t-shirt back across the room.

“You gonna wear that back to Alexandria tomorrow?” Rick taunts sleepily, and Negan hums in affirmation.

“Never gonna wash that damn thing.”

“Jesus,” Rick groans, rolling his eyes.

“Mm,” Negan murmurs, nuzzling tiredly against Rick’s back, one arm draped heavily around his waist. “So did I fuckin’ warm you up or what?”

“You did,” Rick concedes, a small smile playing on his lips. He settles back against Negan’s warm body, breaths growing more labored as sleep creeps in at his edges. The only thing keeping him awake is the nagging question that has now settled in the forefront of his mind.

“You said you were scared when I went under.”

“I did,” Negan agrees, nuzzling closer to Rick's back.

“Did you mean it?” Rick asks curiously. He remembers thinking Negan was going to leave him there to drown, remembers being shocked when the man dragged him out.

“I did,” Negan says again, and then there are lips on Rick’s shoulder, so light that Rick almost thinks he’s imagining them. “Is this the part where we tell each other our deepest, darkest secrets and braid each other’s hair?”

Rick scoffs and presses his cold toes against Negan’s calves just to hear the man curse under his breath. “No. I was just wonderin’.”

“Go to sleep, Rick,” Negan mumbles. “You’re not thinkin’ clearly.”

Maybe that’s the case. And maybe it’s just the lingering cold, but Rick swears that when Negan presses his face to Rick’s back, his cheek feels hotter.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, our snowmen really do look that terrible and muddy in Georgia and the state really does shut down at the mere threat of ice on the road. I've made some sad, ugly snowmen in my day. had a lot of days off for snow that never came, though, so it all evens out in the end.


End file.
